Almost Sorry
by SaintTuesday
Summary: It's trouble in paradise, Light has all he wanted. L is dead and the world is within his grasp, but did he really want it? Now he's not so sure... Light Yagami reflects on his relationship with L and realises that he has made a huge mistake. LxLight.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Deathnote or it's characters. Nor do I own the plot, it was written by my friend without an account. **

**Almost Sorry**

Light Yagami never realised what his feelings for L, his sworn enemy, truly were until it was far too late. He didn't realise when he sat down in a secluded spot on that fateful day and started to laugh uncontrollably, he didn't realise even when he noticed that his cackles had transformed into sobs and that burning hot tears were streaming from his eyes and trickling down his face. He put this reaction down to some bittersweet mixture of shock and happiness that he felt at the thought of having finally won the battle – after all, wasn't that the most _logical_ explanation? He didn't even realise when he enfolded Misa in his arms, for once relishing the joyful exuberance that she showed whenever she was in his presence. He only realised the truth when he kissed her, and yet imagined his lips pressing against the sugar-coated ones of someone quite different…

Since then, everything had changed. Light had heard the old adage "There's a very thin line between love and hate" enough times to accept that it was true, and indeed he'd had first-hand experience of a very similar state of affairs during his relationship with Misa – her sentiments fulfilling the "love" element, and his the "hate". What the young man had failed to appreciate, however, was exactly _how_ thin that line was, and what a small push it took to tip one emotion over the cliff that transformed it into the other.

As for Misa herself, Light was beginning to loathe her with a passion. He had always found her mildly irritating, but he had kept her around because she had certain qualities that made her…useful to him. But now that L had been disposed of, and he had the task force wrapped around his finger so tightly that it was almost painful, she had served her purpose. And without Rem's presence, he felt free to crush her heart into infinitesimally small pieces without the fear of any repercussions.

Sometimes he'd dream of twining that vibrant red tie of his around her delicate neck and pulling on it with all his might, of feeling a not-unpleasant shiver run through him as he watched her gasp her last few breaths, of grinning as he released his grasp on the tie and she crumpled and fell to the ground, becoming nothing more than a limp shell of her former self. Other times, he'd watch himself drawing a knife and creeping up on her while she slept in the bed that they now shared, dragging it gently across her pale, delicate throat and crowing with maniacal laughter as that beautiful liquid oozed out of her neck, then plunging the knife into her heart with every ounce of strength and vigour that he possessed.

But no matter how many times he had these thoughts, no matter how much pleasure he drew from plotting the murder of his greatest supporter, Light never managed to carry his plans through to fruition. Call him weak, but the brunet's heart still trembled at the thought of having actual blood on his hands. Somehow, scribbling someone's name down in an unassuming black notebook didn't seem quite the same as choking them to death with your favourite neckwear. But Light was a proud young man, and he wouldn't allow himself – or anyone else, for that matter – to view him as having _any_ failings. And so, he tried to convince himself that he was keeping Misa around because her Shinigami eyes might prove to be a useful asset in the future, or because she helped him to keep up the pretence of being a normal – if highly intelligent and ever-so-slightly traumatised – teenage boy on the precipice of adulthood, but for some reason these rationalizations never seemed particularly convincing.

Light's opinions on the act of using the _Death Note_ to kill, however, told a very different story. Far from putting him off the thought of killing, L's death had instilled a sort of lust for murder into Light's veins. As his hand danced across the page each night, dispatching thousands of worthless criminals to their ultimate end, an intense thrill would come over the young man, a feeling that left him breathless but oddly euphoric.

In short, Light had fallen far, far further than either he or L would ever have thought possible. He'd spend whole nights staring at a blank spot on the wall, cackling to himself _yet again_, his eyes almost seeming to flash with a bright spark of madness that created a miniscule twinkle of light on the patch of wall he gazed at. How appropriate. Not that his eyes could ever _really_ light up the room any more – not now that he had caused the death of the very person who had once made them shine so brightly.

The next day, Light would be sitting on the sofa in the Investigation Headquarters and allowing himself one tiny twisted smile, when L would suddenly appear beside him, munching contentedly on a marshmallow and cake kebab.

"What are you thinking, Light-kun?" he'd ask through a mouthful of food. And Light would long to tell him what he was truly thinking, but he would know that for all his eloquence, he had no way of putting these emotions into words. So instead he'd lean towards Ryuzaki, desperate to brush away a stray crumb at the side of the other man's mouth with his lips, desperate to see if all the sweets L ate made him taste as delicious as he looked…and then, when he was just moments away from the dark-haired man – close enough to feel the warmth of Ryuzaki's breath – the detective would dissolve into thin air, leaving Light to wonder how on Earth he had been so foolish as to believe that L had truly been there.

L was everywhere. He had a far more powerful influence over Light in death than he had enjoyed at any point during his life. He danced among the shadows on the pavement, his enormous, dark-rimmed eyes peered down at Light from every window of the buildings that he passed, and occasionally the young man would find himself chewing on his thumbnail or longing for the reassuring metallic coolness and musical tinkle of a handcuff tugging against his wrist. The young man found something in every individual he came across that reminded him of his beloved adversary: sometimes it was the person's posture, other times it was the way that they smiled, and occasionally it was nothing more than the fact that they were eating something which L would have simply _adored_.

One day, it all suddenly became too much for Light to bear. As the brunet examined himself in the mirror before a night out with Misa, making sure that every individual strand of hair was perfectly positioned, his reflection transformed into that of a raven-haired, ivory-skinned man with heavy bags under his eyes. In a sudden, utterly unexpected burst of anger, Light raised his fist and smashed it into the mirror. He clamped his teeth onto his bottom lip, trying to prevent himself from letting out an agonised howl as a few tiny fragments of the reflective material embedded themselves in the skin surrounding his knuckles. As he heard Ryuk chortle somewhere behind him, Light hung his head in despair for a few moments before turning to the grinning Shinigami. Admittedly, Ryuk wore that evil grimace of a smile almost permanently, but for once the expression really did seem intentional.

"Tell me there's some way to undo this," Light whispered hoarsely, his eyes beginning to brim with tears that were born out of more than just pain. "Please. There has to be some way that I can get him back."

The Shinigami laughed again – the all-too-familiar _hyuk, hyuk, _a sound that managed to send a chill rippling down Light's spine no matter how many times he heard it – and tossed the apple he was clutching into his waiting sharp-toothed jaws.

"Well," he replied, trying to sound thoughtful but being slightly incapacitated by the half-chewed fruit that was currently residing in his mouth, "there is one possibility…I'm not entirely sure whether it would work, but it might be worth a try…"

But rather than continuing his explanation, Ryuk simply sniggered darkly and returned to the far more appealing process of devouring his favourite foodstuff. Light extracted a couple of shards of the silvery substance from his hand, wincing slightly as he did so, before looking directly into the two liquid yellow golf balls that were set into the centre of Ryuk's face. His own caramel eyes were wide with desperation, and yet already beginning to sparkle with some faint glimmer of hope.

"Please," he repeated. "I'll do anything."

Ryuk's perma-smile grew even wider than usual. If he'd had eyebrows, they would have been raised almost to the ceiling. _"Anything?"_ he asked, his question accompanied with a third round of _hyuk, hyuks_. "Well, if that's the case, I'll see what I can do for ya'."

And as Light's previously miserable face broke into a wide smile of unprecedented joy, the Shinigami swallowed the last morsel of apple-y goodness and winked at the boy. It seemed that things around here were about to become even _more_ entertaining than usual.

**Thankyou for reading, now please review.**

**Saint over and out**


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